


June 6: Sword Beach

by BeaArthurPendragon



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Brotherhood, Character Study, D-Day, Eve of battle, Friendship, Gen, Ominous, World War II, moody reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 23:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19119988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaArthurPendragon/pseuds/BeaArthurPendragon
Summary: Bucky takes the field glasses to see for himself, and there, just on the horizon, is the invasion force, jutting up from the water like a row of dark, tiny teeth. The distance is deceptive, though, he knows. They’ll be ashore within the hour.“The British are coming,” he quips, and Steve allows himself a small smile, but it doesn’t last.(A flash fic for the 75th anniversary of D-Day.)





	June 6: Sword Beach

**Author's Note:**

> Scribbled this on my lunch break. I make no claims to any historical, geographical, or canonical accuracy.

After Bucky dispatches the last of the Germans with a well-placed knife, they regroup in the dunes for a few moments of long-overdue rest and whatever they can cobble together for a meal. The sky is lightening to their right, but it’s still dark enough that they can slip down to the beach undetected. They can’t risk a fire, so there’s no coffee, and they’re mostly out of food anyway, but Steve hands around the chocolate rations he’s been saving all month for this day and Dugan hands around his flask and Dernier shares out the last of the stale bread he rustled up from the elderly farmwife who had sheltered them the night before.

The Germans had some canned sausages and a bit of cheese and Falsworth’d had no compunction about liberating those while Bucky, Morita, and Jones ransacked the place for maps, gear, and dry socks. There’s a Mauser rifle with a spotless scope that looks like it’s never been used, Bucky noticed, and he’d propped that up by the stairs. He’d need it later. 

It’s been nearly four weeks since they crossed the Italian border and three since they crossed into German-occupied territory. They will never, ever forget the bravery of the _maquisards_ who guided them through the countryside and fought alongside them, as well as the terrified but determined civilians who risked their lives nightly to shelter them in their cellars and barns and tool sheds. 

All so they could take out the Germans occupying this small lighthouse on the outskirts of Caen.

This beach will be the first part of Operation Overlord to see the sun today; and this lighthouse is the highest ground for miles. If they’d survived the night, the Germans occupying it would have been the first to spot the British ships—long before anyone on the ground would. The Americans are landing several miles to the west, and Bucky knows Steve wishes he could be there for them, but Bucky had come ashore in Italy at Salerno and he knew exactly what could happen if they lost the element of surprise. It’s going to be a meatgrinder under the best of circumstances, he knows—the least they can do is preserve the secrecy of the invasion as long as possible. Buy as many seconds as they can.

If nothing else, a few square feet of France is free for a while. Dernier’s humming the _Marseillaise_ beneath his breath as he kneels to organize his kit, and then suddenly, he leans down to kiss the ground. Bucky’s not surprised; Dernier’s blithe insouciance has gradually given way to naked hope more and more with each passing day. What does surprise Bucky is that the normally-reserved Falsworth kneels beside him and places his hand on his back. Bucky hears him say, softly, “Won’t let you down now, mate,” and Dernier nods and covers Falsworth’s hand with his own. It’s unexpectedly tender and Bucky finds his throat burning a little at the sight of it. Christ, he’s tired enough to cry from exhaustion alone. They all are.

By unspoken agreement, Morita and Jones and Dugan join them, and Jones takes out his Bible and recites the Lord’s Prayer, first in English and then in French, and the Catholics cross themselves and the others don’t, but they all look up at each other afterwards and nod.

Steve and Bucky stand apart, keeping watch. Bucky’s never seen the Howlies so solemn _before_ a battle, but he knows Salerno’s not far from any of the Americans’ minds.

The sun is rising. 

“Steve,” Bucky murmurs, tapping his watch, and Steve nods. He goes over to Dernier and the rest of the men, and he doesn’t have to say anything. They stand, brush the sand off their knees, check their weapons, and prepare to take their positions around the base of the lighthouse. 

Bucky shoulders his Springfield and the two cans of ammo the Resistance had smuggled in for them two days before, because this is the second half of the mission: Hold the lighthouse. Take out as many Germans as he can behind them. Clear a path inland. 

“Dernier,” Steve says softly, handing the Mauser to him and scooping up the ammo cans like they don’t weigh more than a baby. “Give us a hand.”

Dernier nods.

They step over the dead Germans and take the stairs two at a time up to the parapet around the lighthouse lamp. Steve takes out his field glasses, focuses them, then passes them to Dernier. Bucky watches his face harden. He swallows hard and hands the glasses back to Steve. “Merci,” he says softly, and his eyes are wet. 

“All right, Jacques,” Steve says. “Better take your position while it’s still dark."  

After Dernier leaves, Bucky takes the field glasses to see for himself, and there, just on the horizon, is the invasion force, jutting up from the water like a row of dark, tiny teeth. The distance is deceptive, though, he knows. They’ll be here within the hour. 

“The British are coming,” Bucky quips, and Steve allows himself a small smile, but it doesn’t last. Steve’s still just a little guy at heart; he’s never learned how to be cavalier about danger. It’s what makes him a good leader, Bucky knows. What makes him a good man, too.

They stay on the parapet for a few minutes longer in the quickly brightening sky while Bucky loads the Mauser and Steve arranges the ammo cans around the parapet so he can always get to one quickly when he runs out of bullets. “Not much cover up here,” Steve says gruffly. 

“Nobody’s gonna even see me up here,” Bucky says, waving at Steve’s red, white, and blue uniform. “They’re all gonna be looking at you.” 

Steve gives an amused huff and shakes his head. Bucky lifts the Mauser and puts her through her paces to get a feel for her weight and balance. It’s a good gun, he can’t help but notice. Nobody could build death like the Huns. 

Steve watches him as he does, arms crossed and jaw set, looking grim as a nun. “Suppose I’d better get down there, too,” he says eventually, and Bucky nods. “You ready?"

He’s not—nobody can be ready for what’s about to happen—but he grins at Steve and lifts the barrel of the Mauser. “Born ready,” he says. “What’dye say we try to win this war today?”

Steve casts one last glance out to sea. The sky is bright enough that they can see the dark smudge of the invasion fleet without the field glasses now. “Yeah, Buck,” he says. “About time we did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](https://beaarthurpendragon.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/PendragonBea), too.


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